Heroes
by kakashidiot
Summary: Anders left before the sun had fully risen. Hawke was never a sit back and take it kind of woman. Who said being a Champion was easy anyways? Anders/Hawke. Set post-Inquisition with references to other games.
1. Chapter 1

Tags below. Thanks for reading!

 **[Mild Songfic. "Heroes" by Mans Zelmerlow]**

* * *

 **Heroes**

 **Chapter One  
  
Untold Troubles  
**

 **[…don't tell the gods I left a mess…]**

Anders left before the sun had fully risen. I had rigged the door to wake me – a harsh grating sound as the heavy hinges rasped open or shut. This time was no exception, and my hand went straight to the dagger hidden beneath my pillows, second instinct kicking in.

I recognized the scuffle of his fur-topped leather hunting boots and relaxed. A trip to the outhouse – or perhaps to milk Nalton the Cow. I figured he'd be back any minute.

He wasn't.

Little Toddy and Sir Pounce-a-lot the Second rose an hour later and, rushing to our bedroom, discovered that Mummy had already risen and gotten dressed. Little Toddy, just turned two, let go of Sir Pounce-a-lot's tail suddenly. His blonde curly head turned in confusion as he realized Da wasn't in bed still sleeping.

"Mum!"  
"Have you seen Da around?" I asked.  
Toddy shook his head, round blue eyes solemn.  
"I thought not," I grumbled to myself and, fighting to keep my voice even, turned to Toddy. "We are going to visit Gran for a few days. A holiday at Gran-gran for Toddy."

A familiar smile bloomed across Toddy's face, and I found myself impulsively sweeping my son up into my arms.

"Is Da goin'?" Toddy chirped.  
"Mum is going to find Da," I told him. "Da is probably lost, so Mum has to find him."  
"Where?"  
"I don't know," I smiled, "but don't worry. Mum will find him. She always does."

 _She always does._

* * *

 **This fiction is what I mentally call an experimental fanfiction. These kinds of fanfic are usually me trying out a fandom, or trying out a kind of writing technique. As a result, this fanfic doesn't necessarily represent my writing as of present, but it does represent my more experimental styles. I hope you enjoy this regardless.**

 **You may recognize the differences between the canon and this fic... So I guess I would say this fic is not 100% canonical in a way, because there may be some plot details that don't match canon perfectly. Still I hope this fic is enjoyable!**

 **Please review and let me know what you think!**

 ** _TAGS:_**

 _Summary: Anders has disappeared, and Hawke doesn't intend to let him disappear. Not after all the mess she went through in Kirkwall._

 _Warnings: adult themes_

 _Pairing: Hawke/Anders, Lavellan/Dorian_


	2. Chapter 2

Tags at the end of Chapter 1. Thanks for reading!

* * *

 **Chapter Two**

 **Heavy News**

 **[…I can't undo what has been done…]**

Autumn sweeps the Wastelands with a chill wind bearing the promise of snow and ice. The trees quiver, and the leaves cling stubbornly to the increasingly bare branches. Only the pines and the fir stand stoutly in preparation for winter. I pause in my work outside my mountainside croft and marvel at how swiftly the summer has ended.

Keileth, the local traveling Dalish peddler, passes by, catches sight of me, and halts the better to share the most recent news and the juiciest tidbit of gossip he has overheard in the Crags. Anders joins us after a few minutes, drawing closer at the mention of Kirkwall. Although we travel and despite the fact that news of Kirkwall is plentiful this side of the Vimmark Mountains, the chance for even newer news is too tempting to pass up.

The fires of Kirkwall have spread as the banked resentments between the Templar Order and the Circles of Magi flare throughout Thedas. To Fereldan and Orlais it has swept, bringing freedom and devastation – and an Inquisition.

Anders and I, after a day in our modest garden, feel far removed from such events; yet, Keileth prattles on. For a Dalish, Keileth is more forthcoming, particularly when aiming for a sale. He is not above making a bright coin off of the shemlin during these difficult times, I suppose. We all face a hard world.

Keileth mentions the Champion of Kirkwall's disappearance in passing and the mage rebellion before detailing what he has heard about the Inquisition.

 _The mage rebellion of Kirkwall._ I will remember that day for as long as I live. To Keileth, perhaps it is no more than an unfortunate blemish on shemlin history. Yet another prime example of human foolishness. He invokes Mythal and the Dread Wolf on mentioning Tevinter and the Templars.

 _There is a connection between Tevinter and the Templars?_

 _Yes._ The Inquisition has uncovered some connection between a Tevinter mage and a Templar named Solomon. Also from Kirkwall. The Inquisition, after all, is not only interested in ending the war, it is said, but to also ascertain who destroyed the Divine and her clerics. A dark force – a Tevinter mage's work, the rumours whisper. One who had seen the black city himself long ago. Others blame the work of red lyrium.

"Red lyrium?" Keileth snorts with disbelief. "I have never heard of such stuff – unless you believe the accounts coming out of Kirkwall. About the Knight-Commander there."

 _Red lyrium._ I shiver and glance at Anders. _The news from the mages we have met is true, then..._ He says nothing, but judging by the tightening of his mouth, I know he is concerned. I say nothing either.

We nod as if it does not matter. As if the rebellion and the Inquisition do not concern us. As if red lyrium is the stuff of legends and not the stuff of nightmares. As if goddesses do not walk this earth, and as if we have no business with mages. As if war and revolution have never been our business.

Anders runs his fingers through his now longer, shaggier blonde hair, ruminatively scratches his scruffy chin, and grunts.

"The Inquisition is in…" I prompt Keileth.  
"Skyhold now, I think. Run by a Dalish Elf," Keileth's thin chest swells with pride, though he sounds doubtful. "If you believe the stories. One from the Lavellan clan in the North of Fereldan. The Right and Left of the Divine are there as well – and some others. Some from Navarre. Some from Orlais. Tevinter too. Blood mages, I heard tell. And some of those of the Qun. Some from Kirkwall."  
"Kirkwall?" I refuse to look at Anders.  
"A dwarf and a Templar leading some of the less volatile Templars. Knight-Captain – Commandar? Canlen? Clanen… Culnen… Something."

 _Varric and Cullen? At Skyhold? Helping with the Inquisition? With blood mages? That… can't be right. Rumours must have gotten fanciful somewhere…._

"Interesting times," Anders finally says. He turns toward me. "Where is Toddy?"  
"Waking from his nap at Gran's, I hope."  
"I'll go pick him up," he offers. "Farewell, Keileth."  
"I'll get dinner started," I say and bow slightly toward the elf which gratifies Keileth. "Good day, Keileth."

Keileth continues down the road on his nag, and Anders and I part without a word.

Later that evening, with Toddy finally asleep in his little cot by the hearth, and the fire safely banked down for the night, Anders and I slip into our bed and lay there silently together. Between us lies a kind of thoughtful silence, as the world outside gently presses in. Outside the window, last chirps and whirrs of the crickets and cicadas fill the night. A night owl hoots gently, and the branches of the trees creak-creak in the night winds.

Even in the dark, so far from Kirkwall, so forgotten, we find it difficult to speak of the past. Since the day we had parted from the others, we had made a pact to never bring up Kirkwall in conversation. It is as much for safety's sake as for sanity's. Regardless of our continuing work with the mages, Kirkwall is that unmoveable stone around which the waters of our relationship ripple.

Now we lay together in the dark, shoulder to shoulder and contemplate the blackened timbers overhead.

"Red lyrium," Anders finally says. "So Nyla was right. More has emerged to the surface."  
"Hm. Varric will not be pleased."  
"Perhaps you could ask around about it," Anders suggests.  
"I could," I agree slowly. "King Alistair? Or someone from the Grey Wardens?"  
"Grey Wardens… Stroud, perhaps." Anders adds. "Best you do it, if so. It might take you far though – even to Skyhold… Skyhold…"  
"Frostback Mountains, I believe." I muse, calculating the distance. "A world away, but we are busy enough here as it is. I'll reach out to Stroud with what we already know from the other mages. Then we'll see."  
"Yes. So many mages need to learn how to make their way in this world if they are to walk free of the Circles. My vision for the world has spread," Anders's voice is soft. "The mages will find freedom."  
I hum in response noncommittally.  
"Or death."  
"Or death," I agree lightly, before adding, "No regrets?"  
"No." He replies after a long pause. "No."

I turn then to draw him close.

"We have each other," I remind him, "and the world will change for the better as long as we fight toward what is right. What lies between us – and what lies before us – will one day better the world."  
"And what lies behind us?" he asks.  
"Experience. Regrets…" I smile in the dark. "Strong foundations if we do not allow those memories to warp us."

His arms encircle about me then, and I can feel the movement of his cheek in a slow returning smile against my hair.

"I did not trust you before," he admits, "and I learned a hard lesson from that. I trust you now – I try to trust… Whatever happens in this war, we have at least our love."  
"Remember it," I tell him. "You have a bad habit of forgetting. Like your socks."  
"My socks…" Anders groans. "Those again?"  
"And the cow pen gate."  
"By the Maker," Anders bounds up then sharply. "I-"  
"You forgot," I pull him back down with a hushed laugh, "but I remembered."

We curl up again together and fall asleep.

From then onward, we have been keeping an eye out on the road. Anders checks his wards daily, and I wear a knife strapped inside my boot. We keep a wary eye out for spies. On occasion, I take trips northward to Navarre or south toward Kirkwall as I gather information on red lyrium. As per Anders's advice, I reach out through my contacts to Stroud in hopes of meeting with the Wardens, but there is confusion in the replies. The only response from Stroud I receive mentions unknown corruption within the Grey Wardens' ranks. Maker help us. Anders and I are kept busy with the Circles' uprising, but we are concerned with this information and wonder if the Inquisition ought to be warned.

In the end, a spy did arrive. Someone we did not expect exactly. A dwarf.

* * *

 **You may recognize the differences between the canon and this fic... Let me know what you think!**


	3. Chapter 3

Tags at the end of Chapter 1. Enjoy~!

* * *

 **Chapter Three**

 **Tugging the Strings**

 **[…what if I'm the only hero left…]**

Our thatched cottage, nestled amongst a thick pine tree grove, huddles beneath one of the far-flung arms of an insignificant mountain within the Vimmark Mountain range. Far from the closest trading routes, our plot of land runs along a small plateau before falling away in gentle slopes down to the Wasteland's plains. From the edge of our fields, we stand and look down at the dotted farmhouses and the tiny village of Crags further below. It is a grand sight, made even better due to our position within the mountain.

Connected to a network of narrow roads, our lane is easily missed, and the house is hidden from prying eyes. A safe place, for those wishing the gaze of the Chantry or the Templars, and it is perfect for runaway mages to find safe haven before moving onward. However, it is not the most comfortable place. In the summer months, the pines and oak trees are a haven for large clouds of stinging insects which buzz over our small pond, and the air lays thick and heavy like a stifling blanket between the valleys of the mountain's feet. Now, however, it is autumn, and the plains shiver beneath capricious winds.

It is time to prepare for winter, and Anders has begun repairs on the tool shed's roof and the pigsty's lean-to. Since the beginning of our stay here, the tool shed has housed a couple of mages every few weeks, and for the first time in months, it is vacant. _A good time to make repairs_ , Anders and I have decided. Especially since neither of us need to travel to rescue any mages, together, we could improve on our lodgings.

The Maker is invoked within the first few minutes amongst a variety of other colourful curses as Anders precariously leans forward to secure the plank and bang the first nails in. My job is to hold the ladder. Anders nails down a few planks and, in the process, hits his own thumb. He swears. I chuckle.

That is when we hear an unfamiliar, slow clop-clop-clop of horse's hoofs. There is a sharp rap on the heavy oak door of our house. Anders glances down at me, wordlessly descending, and soundlessly moving around the front. The wards have not been alerted, so it must not have sensed lyrium or magic use.

 _A neighbor? A peddler?_

I sigh and follow behind Anders, pulling my knife out from its sheath within my boot.

At the sight of a red-haired female dwarf, Anders stops suddenly, and I, running into him briefly, curse. The dwarf turns. Pushing past Anders who suddenly seems disinclined to move forward, I approach our uninvited guest cautiously.

"Greetings," the dwarf smiles. "I am Jelsi Orvorn from Orzammar by way of Kirkwall."  
"Kirkwall," Anders repeats flatly.  
"Perhaps you would like a look at my wares," she smiles. "Or hear some gossip from distant parts."  
"We have some elderberry wine," I offer, keeping my tone light.  
"That sounds fantastic," Jelsi lights up.  
"I'll put your cart up," Anders says, approaching the peddlar's black pony.

I lead Jelsi into my large kitchen and set a pot of tea to boil while hunting about in the pantry for the promised elderberry wine.

"Kirkwall, you said?" I ask, emerging from the cool, dark of the pantry with my tea stash and a loaf of bread. "I was just there a few months back."  
"Indeed?" Jelsi smiles.  
"A quick visit."  
"It is a difficult city in which to live and do business," she agrees.  
"Yes."  
"Especially after the mage rebellion."  
"Yes," I set a glass of wine down before her and a few slices of my slightly browned raisin bread. "A hard time for everyone then… or so I hear. Not that the present times are any better"  
"Perhaps you have heard of a cousin of mine," Jesli says, her voice emphasizing 'cousin' just a little. "He fought alongside the Champion during the mage uprising. Varric Tethras."

 _Cousin_ , I snort.

"I thought your last name was…"

 _Not Tethras._

"Orvorn. Distant relation," smiles Jesli. "Dwarven politics."  
"I see." I realize what this is now.

Anders comes in and sits down, pouring himself a glass of wine. He raises an inquiring eyebrow at me and notices the smile on my face. He frowns in confusion.

"Varric Tethras?" I pour myself a cup of tea and sit by Anders, facing Jelsi. I notice the supple leathers which would be great armour as a scout as it would be for a peddler against the cold. Her cloak is a deep green, and although well spattered with mud and grimy from long travel, is of good quality. "The one who fought alongside the Champion… surely is with the Champion now."  
"With the Inquisition, actually," Jelsi's smile was now quite assured. "He has sent out word to his kin regarding a need for any information on red lyrium – and Corypheus."  
"Corypheus?" Anders blinks. "Not the one that-?"  
"The Tevinter mage, I'm guessing," I recall Keileth's words, but the name recalls another memory. Another battle within the Deep Roads.

 _He has returned? HOW? And… even more importantly… what are his plans?_

"Corypheus."  
"I believe you are right," Jelsi nods. "Red lyrium, Corypheus – an archdemon or an ancient mage, and the Grey Wardens. They are missing apparently. Varric has asked for more information. Perhaps his old friend, the Champion of Kirkwall would know."  
"Perhaps the Champion of Kirkwall is busy," Anders suggests, glancing down at his glass thoughtfully.  
"Varric does not seem to think so. The Champion was sighted around Kirkwall a short while back – and the Vimmark mountains… and on the outskirts of Navarre." Jelsi shrugs. "He is hoping the Champion would be willing to investigate this matter, perhaps meet with him."  
"Grey Wardens missing." Anders shakes his head. "That is not a good sign."  
"Quite some news." I pour myself another cup of tea. My grip is firm, but inside I can feel my stomach tightening in anticipation. "Definitely a matter that needs looking into."  
"You do not seem surprised," Jelsi folds her hands and looks at Anders and I intently.  
"News travels fast," Anders says.  
"Even here, we have heard of a variety of things." I glance at Anders, receive a small nod, and then meet Jelsi's brown eyes firmly. "The Dalish have been more open thanks to the Inquisitor's position. He is Dalish, is he not? At any rate, perhaps your cousin will find the support and information he needs – sooner than he expects."  
"I am sure he'll be glad to hear it," Jelsi replies formally.

She does not stay long. Anders buys a hoe, two runes, and a staff blade. I begin to make mental lists about what I plan to pack. I have a long journey ahead of me.

* * *

 **Let me know what you think! Concrit appreciated!**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

 **Returning Again**

 **[…live your life like there is no tomorrow…]**

We left Stroud in the Fade. Alongside the Inquisitor and his friends, I jumped to safety with a heavy heart. The Grey Wardens as a bulwark against the darkspawn had been seriously compromised. For the first time in a long time, I was not uncertain what to say or think. A trip to Weisshaupt was clearly in order. I would need to send messages to Anders. Little Toddy would have to miss his mother for a few more weeks. Hopefully, Gran would be able to keep Anders and Toddy in warm clothing and food for a little while longer. Hopefully, no one had discovered Anders and the homestead. Hopefully, the Circles did not require anything serious of Anders - or me.

I sighed, ran my fingers through my long dark brown hair and realized that I would need a long bath to get all the grime out. The battle with the Grey Wardens had seemed to last an eternity.

Clarel. Stroud. All those Wardens. Dead.

The Inquisitor also seemed to have a lot on his mind, for the Dalish elf spoke little. His brilliant green eyes rested on me for a moment before moving onto his companions – the Tevinter mage, Dorian, and Solas.

"Well," Dorian said sardonically. "Let's not do that again."

"The Fade will not harm you." Solas brows furrowed at the Tevinter mage's joke, obviously a little annoyed.

The Inquisitor shook his head, "I agree with Dorian... It is nothing against the Fade itself, Solas. Rather, the fact that our potential allies – the Wardens - have not only been compromised but also made abettor to such a crime and plot… I would never have foreseen this. There is much we must do," the Inquisitor slung his mage's staff over his slender shoulder. "If we are to work with the Grey Wardens, we will need to bring them closer to us."

"I will go to Weisshaupt and attempt to discover what has happened there," I volunteered immediately. "I will send word of what I find – if there is anything left to find."

"It would behoove us to discover how the Wardens came to make this decision." Dorian twirled his staff elaborately before stowing it away, while winking at the Inquisitor and I. "It is unbelievable, but it happened. We need to know why."

I could feel my eyebrows climbing. The Dalish Inquisitor mage and a Tevinter human mage? I suppress a chuckle. If only Isabella and Anders were here…. Or Varric…

"Agreed." The Inquisitor sighed. "Ser Clarel seemed to believe that what she did was justified by need. An unfortunate set of events which led to the unthinkable."

"Humans and elves are often confronted with terrible choices," Solas murmured. "It is difficult to judge motivations, but in the Fade some of those emotions are made clear. Perhaps Ser Clarel's desire was only to protect Thedas… but if beneath her motivations lay Fear, then it was only a matter of time before the Wardens and their cause would be manipulated."

"Either way, if you don't mind, I would rather not go back to the Fade to sort it out," Dorian grunted. "Better if we just go the normal route and ask people questions. Surely some of the Wardens would have an idea as to how this happened."

"Everyone has a story they tell themselves to justify bad decisions..." I mused aloud. "…and it never matters. In the end, you are always alone in your actions."

Anders. Meredith. Cullen. Isabela. Fenris. Aveline. Even myself. We had all made difficult choices. We all had to live with them. Or not. Meredith is dead.

The others, no doubt remembering my past, said nothing further. Dorian and the Inquisitor attempted to lift our spirits up as we made our way back to Skyhold; however, Solas seemed more interested in discussing the Fade, and I could only remember Stroud's face.

The dire memories of the Wardens stayed with me throughout the rest of the evening. Perhaps it was the awareness that it could have been Anders or my brother at Adamant. Perhaps it was the sight of the piles of deformed corpses. Good soldiers dead.

Around me, other soldiers celebrated another near death – they had survived battles of their own on the variety of war torn zones surrounding the Inquisition; but many of the Inquisitor's close friends were quiet and thoughtful as they processed the fate of the Wardens. After two hours of sitting by the fire and swapping stories with Varric and the Inquisitor, I slipped out early. Not only was I avoiding Cassandra, but I was also feeling more tired than usual.

That is what I told myself.

-0-0-0-

Skyhold, the morning of my departure, promised a new future. Surrounded by the awe-inspiring vista, the castle itself stood as a triumph. Its ancient stones gently brightened beneath the dawning rays of the sun. About it and within its walls, trees rustled in the rising morning breeze, and their leaves, despite the deepening promise of autumn, shivered delicate green-silver. Bejeweled with pearls of dew, the thick lawn carpeted the outer keep and, beyond the gate, ran down to the crags and then further down and away to the lower foothills of the mountains. Above it all, the peaks of the mountain range flamed red against a blue sky streaked with wispy clouds.

"Rain soon," I predicted.

"Yes," the Inquistor smiled. "The wind is bringing us a storm, I should imagine… but as long as spirits and the undead are not crawling out of the caves, I am happy."

"Crestwood was a mess," I nodded. "I am glad you could sort it out."

"Weisshaupt may not be much better. Send us word if you need aid."

"I'll come in a heartbeat, Hawke," Varric added, suddenly at my elbow. "Weisshaupt isn't as close as I would like, but I'd come as soon as I could. If there's trouble, don't hesitate to ask. If the place is crawling with corruptions, for Maker's sake, don't attempt to cleanse it on your own."

"I won't."

"I mean it," Varric gave me a critical glance. "Sometimes I have this feeling you think you could clear out any trouble on your own… but… you have friends who would always lend a hand. Speaking of lending a hand, say hi to Blondie for me."

"I will," I smiled at his pet name for Anders. "He'll appreciate your greeting – and I'm sure he'd send something back in return."

"Those few gold that he still owes me would be nice." At the sight of my furrowed brow, the dwarf waved his hand dismissively. "Never mind that." Varric peered down into the courtyard. "Is that your horse? Looks ready to go."

The Inquisitor laughed, and I raised an eyebrow at my shorter friend.

"And now he's hurrying me out of the door," I shake my head. "What did you do now, Varric?"

"Me?" Varric asked in mock surprise. "Little old me? I did nothing!"

"Is it Cassandra?" asked the Inquisitor, clearly amused.

"Isn't it always about Cassandra with me?" Varric shook his head as he followed the Inquisitor and I down the stairs. "She's on the warpath."

"So she found out," the Inquisitor smirked. "I told you she would."

"Solas told me she would," corrected the dwarf. "He is right. As usual. But I knew. It was just a matter of time."

"Well," I had to point out, "Skyhold is big – but not that big. At any rate, you can send her my greetings. I'll be on my way. I had not planned for face-to-face time with a Seeker. Not this early in the morning."

"Perhaps another day," Varric agreed.

"Another day," I repeated solemnly as I mounted my waiting horse. "Good hunting, Lavellan," I added, nodding at my fellow mage.

He smiled, green eyes sparkling with good humour, and waved with Varric from the battlements of Skyhold as I made my way across the bridge and down the steep hillsides of the mountain range's foothills. A dark head joined the dwarf and elf. A dark head with a strident voice. Cassandra, no doubt. Very displeased. I found myself laughing.

I turned one last time in my saddle before disappearing around a craggy corner. A small vision then of Varric precariously standing on the battlement's walls and a slender figure in flaming silver standing beside him.

A hole in the sky. Gaps in the Fade. Demons spawning everywhere. Tevinter mages roaming about. Corypheus stirring the pot for whatever nefarious plot he had in mind. The Carta gone mad. The Wardens gone mad. The Templars gone mad. The mages gone mostly mad. _Whatever_ , as Sera would say. It would sort itself out. Somehow I can believe it will end well regardless of Varric's dark premonitions.

Somehow, I believe. I have found hope.

I faced forward to the north and Weisshaupt.

Let me know what you think!


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five  
Mysteries Arise**

 **[…we are the heroes of our time…]**

Weisshaupt is nothing like Skyhold. Skyhold is old. Weisshaupt, though not as old, holds that ancient air – and a grandeur that speaks of power and the will of men. The arches, the towers, the great walls reach upward to a grey sky. It is a sentinel amongst the wastes of the Anderfels, and so there it stands against the threat of the Dark Spawn and the Tevinter Imperium.

 _Did the mages of Tevinter ever take the Grey Wardens seriously? Corypheus must have seen their use a long time ago in order to set such a plot in motion… and if Corypheus is indeed a Tevinter mage…_

A great road winds up to the front halls of Weisshaupt, but this lone rider is not affronted by any guard or soldier. There is no sign of Wardens on the battlements; there is no sight of bustling servants, or tradespeople; there is no sound but the occasional snap of a dark flag from one of the towers.

The windows and doors are gaping eyes of darkness, and from within there is no light and no warm welcome.

Just standing there, I can feel it.

 _Weisshaupt is dead._

My horse, sensing my uncertainty, skitters down the road.

The gates stand open, and as I pass through, I hold my breath. There is no sound other than the flap of the flags, the clop-clop-clop of Draniun's hoofs, and my own breath. Somewhere a door creaks listlessly in the wind. Once I am by the stables, I dismount and lead Draniun into a stall. It is empty, but the rack is full of hay and Draniun, once the saddle is removed and his bridle, is content to stand and feast. The water is unspoiled.

I check the rest of the stables and find no horses left. There is one corpse of a horse rotting within its stall. It's legs and neck had been hacked at – and it had been eventually felled by the barbed arrow protruding from its chest.

Some sort of battle had ensued in Weisshaupt.

 _How long ago?_

It is hard to tell. I move forward, staff and sword at the ready, and I begin my long exploration of the empty halls of Weisshaupt. The Grey Wardens seem to have disappeared. There are signs of battle. There are Grey Warden corpses alongside darkspawn and abominations. A few abominations remain, which I dispatch one at a time.

Each dark hall only brings more questions. The library. The feast hall. The dormitories. All empty.

I read the scraps of paper left behind – any journals that may remain. I search for a clear account of where the Grey Wardens had disappeared. That Corypheus had attempted to completely bind the Wardens is clear. That he had failed is also clear. The remaining Wardens… are gone.

 _Where did they go?_

There are no answers. Only more questions.

-0-0-0-

It takes me two weeks to clear the place out. I place wards and secure the premises as best as I can. Weisshaupt, one day, I guess will be full once more. Today, however, it remains empty.

I contemplate returning to Skyhold with my news. I consider sending word via courier. Neither option suits me, for I have already been too long from Anders and Toddy's sides, and allowing word to spread of the emptiness of Weisshaupt seems like foolishness to me. I decide to return home and wait.

I mount Draniun and allow the somber grey skies of the Anderfels to swallow the ancient keep. I do not look back.

Home is before me. It is calling.

* * *

 **If you enjoyed this, let me know! Thanks for reading~!**

 **-KI**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six  
Demons of the Past**

 **[…but we're dancing with the demons in our mind…]**

Anders left before the sun had fully risen. After the first few seconds of shocked realization, I came to terms with the fact that, to a certain extent, I had known that this day would come.

In many ways, Anders had changed, but in other ways he had never changed. This was the man, after all, who had tricked me into helping him create an explosion which destroyed the Chantry in Kirkwall. This was the man who had, a few months later, tried to hide a cat in the barn for fear I would disapprove of a feline addition to our household. This was the man who, every now and then, disappeared for "a walk" and came back with a mage on the run.

 _I did not trust you before, and I learned a hard lesson from that. I trust you now – I try to trust…_

That is what he had told me in the quiet of the night as I lay within his arms. Some part of him spoke the truth then, but I knew… I knew that old habits die hard. Anders, for all his love, sometimes needed to do things on his own.

 _Whatever happens in this war, we have at least our love._

 _The idiot_ , I seethed, as I rode away from Crags, leaving Toddy behind on Gran's very cozy lap with a cookie in his hand. _He could have at least explained himself. He could have said goodbye!_

Even Toddy, Maker help us, had been more content to nibble on Gran's cookie than wave goodbye.

 _Like Father, like son._ I sighed. I shook my head. I clucked in annoyance at Draniun. I chuckled to myself, and found that I had suddenly begun to cry a little. I wiped the tears away briskly, feeling more like an idiot than ever.

-0-0-0-

After my return from Weisshaupt, after my report on the Grey Wardens, and after the news of the Inquisition's victory against Corypheus, Anders had fallen quiet. When the Mages split and began the College independently of the Chantry and Circles, Anders had nodded with satisfaction.

"Your work is done, in a way," I had squeezed his shoulder. "You should be pleased. This is the first step toward autonomy."  
"I should be pleased," agreed Anders, but there was a note of doubt in his voice.

I had known then.

"Well," I added after a short pause. "We will have to find you a new cause."  
"The fight for freedom is far from over," Anders had been quick to reply then.  
"It is not over," I said lightly, "but soon they will no longer need our guidance or aid."

I ran my fingers through his long hair affectionately, and then, after double-checking on Toddy napping in his cot in the corner, I came around the great chair which Anders loved to sit in. I sat down on his lap and twined my arms around his neck and drew him in for a kiss.

"We could use another tool shed."

Anders's blue eyes narrowed. He offered me a crooked grin.

"I knew you had some ulterior motive!"

I chuckled, kissed him again, and wished that I could somehow banish the trouble which brewed behind Anders's gaze. _As long as Justice and Anders coexist_ , I mused, _perhaps there will be no peace. This world is, after all, imperfect. There is no peace for everyone under the sun. There will always be trouble in Thedas._

And so, a month passed, during which time Anders went out and scoured the countryside for any who would need his aid. Some days I would join him and we would work together as we had once in Kirkwall, fighting darkspawn, banishing abominations, and executing any mage or Templar who disturbed the peace from the water's edge of Kirkwall to well within the boundaries of Navarre.

With Cassandra as Divine, the transition from chaos to a semblance of tolerant order was not as easily achieved as many had hoped. The College, refusing to back down, demanded its freedoms. Mages running free were barely tolerated, and Templars who had escaped the aftermath of the Inquisition had the choice to come within the jurisdiction of the Chantry, join Cullen within the Inquisition, return to farming, or go rogue and die at the hands of Orlesian or Fereldan soldiers.

One such trip took him further south than usual, crossing into Fereldan itself. It was the first time in a long time, perhaps, that he had seen his homeland. The first time since the most recent blight which had driven me north to Kirkwall. King Alistair was still rebuilding his country, and the old places which we had called home were as yet to be rebuilt.

"Lothering is still a shithole," Anders said, his voice muffled as he rooted through his beaten, muddy satchel.

He tossed his trousers, shirts, underpants, and socks into the laundry basket before finally adding the satchel to the pile for good measure. I sighed at the sight of his mess and decided to ignore it and just continue with the dinner at hand.

"Why am I not surprised?" I shook my head. "I heard the Blight settled there permanently. It'll still be years before we can reclaim that land." I stopped and rolled my eyes. "And here I am talking like some old woman about a land I love. Farthest from the truth, really."  
"It was your home," Anders shrugged. "You have fond memories of the place. Carver and you have moved on now… but it is the homeland of your father and mother. Have you heard from Carver?"  
"Yes. He has rejoined the rest of the Wardens in the South. They are still deliberating how to go about rebuilding."  
"Did you… tell him?"  
"Tell him?"  
"About Weisshaupt?" Anders wandered into the kitchen, poked at the logs on the hearth, checked the stack of cut wood outside the door, and then sat down. I made him a cup of tea and added some of his favourite soft biscuits.  
"Not yet. When he comes in person, I will. I have told him I have news on Weisshaupt," I grimaced. "He will come when the Wardens are ready to hear." A pause. I went back to cutting carrots. Anders sipped his tea. "How about your village?"  
"Gone."  
"The Blight?"  
"The mage-templar war. One day it will be rebuilt… perhaps."  
"It is hard for the everyman to survive a war between Templars and mages at the best of times, even without the tears in the Fade…" I tossed the carrots into the broth.  
"Yes," Anders contemplated a biscuit, absently mashing it around the edges.  
"Did you find any of your relatives?" I probed gently, reaching for a potato.  
"No. I didn't look." Anders ate the crumbs ruminatively.  
"It is hard to see Fereldan that way…"  
"Yes."

Silence for a few moments.

"The fighting spread everywhere."  
"Hm." I nodded.  
"Maybe the end is in sight," he said, "but not for everyone."  
"Well," I pointed out. "This is the reality of life. Sometimes you must find contentment putting out the fires about you. That is all you can achieve."  
"Hm."  
"How does Justice, er, Vengeance feel about that?"  
"I…" Anders frowned. "He doesn't like the idea. He knows that what you say is true… I know that you are right. Until the day I die, somewhere someone will be badly used, will cry out for justice, will dream of freedom. I can't – we can't be there for everyone."  
"We can be there for the people that matter," I reminded him gently, moving over to his side. I noticed the furrow between his blonde brows, poured him some more soothing flower tea, and cupped his scruffy cheek tenderly. "We can be there for each other, for Toddy, for Gran… for the village… for Kirkwall… for any mages who reach out to us."  
"Yes." A smile briefly flitted across Anders's face.

The conversation moved onto the recent weather, the forecast for the rest of the season, and the newest gossip within Crags. We spoke of Toddy and where he might find education safely. Signs of magic had as yet to manifest within our son, but Anders and I had a feeling that one day, Toddy would need the special care of an older mage. We spoke of the new tool shed I had planned, and a new wringer for the laundry. We spoke of a way to increase our income so that I could hire a maid.

We did not speak of what truly troubled Anders, and I did not prod. I watched and waited.

One day, my fears materialized, and I found myself on the back of Draniun, plodding away into an oncoming rain storm, Crags at my back.

-0-0-0-

After a night spent in the Vimmark overpass, you realize that something is different. Something is wrong. Something is off.

It isn't the hard ground or the ongoing drizzle. It is not the oppressive gloom which hangs threateningly down from every crag. It is not the unsettling sound of rocks clattering, the distant cry of a hunting bird, or the howling of wind past the cave.

This road is familiar to you, but for the first time in a long time, the vista of rock and cliff seems more ominous and threatening. Confused, you rest for the night and take precautions you rarely did before. Lying down and closing your eyes you recount the past few weeks. Over emotional. Hungry, yet nauseous. Dizzy in the mornings. Fatigued for no reason.

 _Surely not. By the Maker…_ The realization dawns and you huff a sigh.

"Anders," you address the rain. "When I get my hands on you…"

* * *

 **A new update, I hope you enjoy~! Let me know what you think!**

 **-KI**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven  
Along the Road**

 **[…wake up and…]**

In the end, I was not alone in my travels. As promised, when I reached out to Varric, I received a response and, within a week, the dwarf was at my side in the The Hanged Man of Kirkwall.

"I was on my way back to Kirkwall anyways," Varric explained with a wide smile. "Just finishing up some business with his Inquisitorialness… and Cassandra had to call on me one last time. To show that she cares."  
"You are leaving a hero's life behind to come join me," I eye him carefully. "Things are not the easiest when you stand by me."  
"When were they ever easy? Especially in Kirkwall." Varric snorted. "Andraste's ashes. When I came in on the boat, the stench brought back so many lovely memories… Speaking of memories… Where's Blondie? I thought he'd be hanging about here all doom and gloom."  
"Well, that would be the problem I mentioned," I said, turning down another offer of ale and ordering tea.

Varric looked at me curiously but held his tongue.

"Blondie causing you trouble?" he asked, eyes narrowing.  
"In his usual way," I said with an attempt at a nonchalant shrug. "He's disappeared."  
"Disappeared?" Varric set down his mug a little loudly, quieted himself, and then leaned forward to hiss, "Grey Warden disappeared? Or just the usual Blondie alone time?"  
"Hmmm… Probably more the second, but I'm worried. Since the Grey Wardens, since that one time in the Deep Roads… since… well, since he saw how the Mage Rebellion affected Fereldan…"  
"He was in Ferelden recently?"  
"Just a short visit."  
"Shit."  
"Yes." My large mug of tea arrives, and I sip from it experimentally.  
"It's a bit of surprise," Varric admitted. "I never thought he'd…"  
"Regret?" I finished Varric's unspoken words. "I don't know if it is regret. It is hard for him to realize that his passion for justice for one group of people may have brought about injustice for other groups of people… The world is full of hurt that no single spirit can heal. Perhaps it is that… or more of a realization of the full responsibility of what he carries. Of what we carry together. I am part of it as well."  
"We all are. Merrill, Fenris, Aveline… we all knew," Varric said then. "We all knew that it wasn't the best choice… there was never any good choice. No matter what we chose, Ander's match lit Thedas. For better, or for worse. Even without his flame, the mages would have rebelled." A pause. He drank a bit more of his ale, before continuing. "Still… For the first time… Walking away from the Inquisition, I feel like things will turn out for the better."  
"It is nice to hear a bit of untarnished optimism from you," I smiled at Varric.  
"I've seen some crazy things, Hawke," Varric shook his head, ruefully, "but I've also seen heroic action and the stuff myths are made of. Maybe there's hope for us all. One day. If not for us, then for our children."  
"Our children…" I echoed.  
"How is Toddy?"  
"Getting taller and older. Making me feel smaller… and older…" I smiled fondly then. "He is very like his father."  
"Whom we need to find."  
"Yes." My fond smile melted away.  
"You look… quite angry," Varric's eyebrows rose. "I probably haven't seen you look this pissed since Kirkwall."  
"I need to find him," I said, "to give him a piece of my mind."  
"I bet."

A pause. We sat amidst the usual hubbub of The Hanged Man each considering the troublesome mage we called Blondie. I could almost feel Varric wondering if Anders was worth it. _He is probably not thinking that…_ I told myself. _That is all you. And the truth is, some days you aren't certain… yet you always seek out the answer to that age-old question and find yourself answering 'yes' time and time again._

"Where did you leave Toddy?" Varric's voice broke into my thoughts.  
"Gran's. She'll care for him for at least a month."  
"A month. I'm sure we can hunt down Blondie within the month." Varric rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I could start with my own contacts, but I think Lavellan would be fine with us using some of the Inquisition's… friends… as well."  
"Do I want to know?"  
"You don't," Varric chuckled, "but to help the Champion of Kirkwall… Well, Cassandra and Leliana would not mind you in their debt. I was thinking of another friend. Thom Rainier. He is of the Grey Wardens. If your runaway boytoy has gone to the Grey Wardens, they would tell us. My contacts with the thaigs will let me know if he is travelling about Fereldan. Leliana will let us know what is going on in Orlais… and I have someone will check the north roads for news. I highly doubt he is headed toward Rivaini or the Qunari. I recall Blondie never liked those of the Qun. Still… Iron Bull may know people… I am sure we can find him, Hawke."  
"I am fine," I replied sharply, responding the spirit of his final words. "I know I'll find him. It will work out."  
"If there is anyone in the world who can make the best of a bad situation, it is you, Hawke." Varric's eyes, however, remained sharp. "I am certain you will work it out… but you are drinking water, and unless you have decided to join the Chantry – impossible – or are abstaining from alcohol for the good of your soul – unlikely – I'd say Hawke and Anders have another little bun in the oven."  
"That's one way of putting it." I sighed then. "It won't make things easier… but I will be fine, Varric."  
"You let me know if you need anything," Varric said.  
"I will." I promised him. "What I really need is to get on the road."  
"In a few days," Varric nodded. "Before we head south, I want to make sure that our northern inquiries have started off on the right foot. We will ask them to send news to Skyhold. That is the safest place. I'll send a guard to Gran's as well. Just in case."

I didn't disagree, just nodded, suddenly feeling the fatigue of the day sink down on my shoulders. Whenever you are in Kirkwall, you feel tired.

"You staying here? At The Hanged Man?" asked Varric, his eyes suddenly filled with worry.  
"Yes," I shook my head. "I couldn't… I couldn't…"

I couldn't go back to the house. _If I went back to my old haunts, would they all be there? My friends? Or their ghosts? Merrill in Darktown… Fenris in his master's abandoned house… Aveline among the guards… No. I cannot return as it is now. Perhaps one day in the future…_

"I know." Varric stood. He did not mention his own family holdings in Kirkwall, where his brother had met his end. "Let's get you to bed."  
"I am fine," I reiterated, also rising.

It only took me five minutes to fall asleep.

-0-0-0-

We stayed in Kirkwall for five days, double-checking the mountain paths we had wandered only a year or two ago. It seemed an emptier place now that the Dalish had disappeared and the Qunari presence had completely vanished. In the end, we had to rely on local farmers and traders coming into town for any news of the north and coastal roads. The fisher folk recalled a blonde-haired mage making inquiries about passage to Fereldan.

"Or was it Orlais?" The wrinkled grandfather fisherman rubbed his chin scruff ruminatively. "On a shipload of dyes… or was it lyrium?"  
"The regular lyrium, I hope," Varric muttered under his breath.  
"Only regular lyrium comes out these days," the fisherman reassured the dwarf. "Any sniff of the red stuff and we have guards and mages and Templars all over destroying it."  
"That is what I like to hear," Varric smiled with satisfaction. "Kirkwall has enough to deal with without having red lyrium lying around."

After making a bit more small talk on trade, the empty Viscount seat in Kirkwall, and the rebuilding efforts of the Chantry, Varric and I walked away thoughtfully.

"Looks like we need to head south," I said.  
"Storm Coast would be a great place to start." Varric nodded. "If we're lucky, my messages will get to Iron Bull and he could meet us there."  
"Iron Bull?"  
"Tough Qunari, knows those parts well."  
"Qunari?" My eyebrows rise.  
"Tal-vashoth now. Unfortunately." Varric shook his head. "Long story short, it was either the ship or the Chargers, and he and the Inquisitor went with men over alliances. Typical Lavellan. Which is what makes him such a great leader in respect to leading men. Iron Bull ended up, well… Tal-vashoth adequately sums it up."  
"I see." I gesture to the wharf. "Lead the way, then, Varric."

* * *

 **Let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!**

 **-KI**


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